


Kindling

by lavenderletters



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angry Kissing, Assertive Keith, M/M, Takes place probably some time after s7 bc fuck canon yaknow, featuring:, it's really just an excuse to make them kiss, thats all this fic is, thirsty lance, written for a request on tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-24 17:06:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18167861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderletters/pseuds/lavenderletters
Summary: Lance struggles with his attraction to Keith during training, and it all comes to a head when Keith corners him afterwards to ask why he was off his game today.Prompt from tumblr: Angry Kiss.





	Kindling

Lance was drowning.

Silver-limned eyes like pools of mercury—strong arms with rippling form—an already too-tight T-shirt clinging to abs and dark with sweat—

_Wham!_

He was on his back again, chest heaving and cheeks flushed with what he would vehemently insist was mere exertion. After hours of training in the Atlas' facilities with the team, Lance could reasonably claim to have lost count of how many times Keith had managed to disarm him and pin him to the ground, a pale arm held beneath his chin and a pouty pair of lips frowning down at him.

(Lance had not, in fact, lost count. This was number twenty-two.)

(And he was all too eager for number twenty-three.)

But before Lance could open his mouth and demand another rematch—for the sake of self dignity, of course, nothing else—Keith was rising to his feet and extending a hand down in a silent offer. Lance silently bemoaned the loss of his teammate's legs on either side of him—purely because Keith was warm, he promised himself—but begrudgingly accepted the help up from the ground nonetheless.

Keith gave him a funny look that Lance couldn't quite place. His thick raven brows were drawn low, and his vibrant eyes were narrowed in thought.

Judgment, Lance surmised. It was probably judgment.

“We're done for today, team,” Keith called out, turning to the others in the room, and Lance had to bite back a whine. “Good job.”

Already, Pidge and Hunk were separating from their own duel, and Allura gave one final sweeping whip to a battered training droid before ending the sequence and allowing her bayard to meld back into its stationary form.

Scrambling for an excuse to keep going, Lance sputtered, “Wh—hey! I was getting somewhere, you know! Wearing you down. You know, playing the long strat. A couple more rounds and you'd be collapsing with exhaustion—or, uh, maybe a few more actually, just to be safe—”

“Lance,” Keith interrupted, his tone offering no room for debate. Those slate eyes were once again fixed on Lance, boring into him as if picking him apart piece by piece. He felt terribly exposed all of a sudden. “Stay behind for a few minutes.”

And oh— _oh_ , he could do that. A few minutes of _private_ training with Keith? With just their tight flight suits? Where no one else could—

 _Wait, what? Snap out of it, Lance._ Lance shook his head as if to clear it of those invasive thoughts. There was _no_ logical reason to get _this_ excited over Keith kicking his ass in private. Keith kicking his ass and landing on top of him and holding him down with his thighs—

_What the FUCK, MAN—_

“Lance? Hello?”

Lance once again jolted himself back into the present, only to find a stereotypically grumpy Keith waving a hand at him to grab his wayward attention.

“What, yes, hello, of course I was listening,” Lance practically yelped, suddenly all too aware of the fact that the rest of Team Voltron had vacated the premises. He felt hot beneath his flight suit. Wasn't this stupid thing supposed to have body temperature regulation? Did it only work when the armor pieces were attached? _Fuck._ “What's—uh—you wanna spar some more, yeah?” _Jesus, I sound desperate._

Keith just kept giving him that same appraising look, like Lance was some puzzle to be worked out. Eventually, he placed a surprisingly gentle hand on Lance's arm and guided him over to the edge of the room. “Listen,” he started, a flicker of uncertainty passing over his expression. “I just—I don't know what's going on, but you didn't bring your A game today.” A little blunt, to be sure, but this was Keith. “It's almost like you—like you were...” He trailed off, his frown deepening. “... letting me win.”

And wow, if that didn't raise every single one of Lance's proverbial hackles. Even more so because it was shamefully _true._

“Well—well, not everyone's a damned prodigy, you know, Keith,” Lance bit back, immediately hunching his shoulders in a defensive posture and slouching back against the wall behind him. “Sorry if I didn't live up to your _standards_ today.”

Keith's gaze became incredulous. “What—that's not what I—I was just... worried—”

“Oh, worried that I'd let the team down? Worried that I wouldn't be enough of a challenge for you anymore? That it'd become boring to beat me, huh?” It was a stupid thing to say, Lance knew, but he couldn’t bear the thought of Keith finding out the truth.

“Lance, what the fuck, where is this coming from?” The Black Paladin's eyes were blazing now, that familiar fire sparking to life. Lance felt, distinctly, that if he strayed too close, Keith's flames would consume him like kindling and spit him back out into the sky as ash and cinders.

It was so, _so_ frightening how appealing that was.

That fear spurred him to turn toward the door. He needed a cold shower and plenty of time to clear his head. “Man, just leave me the fuck alone—”

Firm hands planted themselves on the wall on either side of him.

“No.”

And, see, Lance considered himself to be a reasonably level-headed individual. He had been the Blue Paladin, once upon a time, and that position had required a certain degree of restraint and thought before action. And now that he was the Red Paladin, he was right-hand man to a known hot-head, so he considered himself pretty practiced at reigning in impulses, be they his own or those of his leader.

But when said leader was trapping him against a wall and piercing him with a molten gaze? Well, Lance could only be held so responsible for himself.

“I'm not fucking leaving you alone, not when I know there's something wr—”

And Lance was just so _done_. With _all_ of this.

So he took matters into his own hands—and by matters, he meant the collar of Keith's flight suit—and pulled his fiery teammate down with one merciless yank. His lips were on Keith's in an instant, demanding and agitated and wholly relentless, silencing any furious words that may have otherwise sullied the air.

Keith didn't move an inch. Within seconds, Lance's brain caught up to his body, and he pulled back with a short gasp, prepared to utter a slew of embarrassed half-apologies, half-excuses. Before his own horror could even fully root itself in his veins, however, he felt a new pressure on his lips, and opened his eyes to find Keith chasing after the aborted kiss.

Under normal circumstances, Lance would have probably screamed and flailed his arms around a bit and maybe run off to rant at Hunk.

But these were not normal circumstances, and there was a very assertive, very _angry_ Keith Kogane now devouring his mouth, grappling for his waist, licking at his lips, and growling with satisfaction when they parted and permitted entry.

Yeah, there was no way Lance was going to risk ruining this. So he closed his eyes once more, buried his hands in that messy mullet, and tilted his head invitingly when Keith began to trail rough, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw. By the time those teeth had found purchase at the top his neck, it really wasn't Lance's fault that such a needy, mewling noise managed to escape his throat.

Keith's approval came in the form of a grunt and renewed fervor. Wandering hands kneaded into Lance's body, clearly impatient for more of those sounds. And Lance would have gladly indulged those wishes, had Keith not suddenly pulled back, wearing such a panicked expression that even Lance was dragged from his stupor.

“Oh my God,” Keith blurted in an exhale, his hot breath still fanning over Lance's face. “Oh my God, are you okay?”

And, _what?_ What the _hell?_

“Shit, Lance,” Keith continued, carefully prying Lance's chin up to get a good look at the column of his throat, or at least what was visible above the flight suit. “Shit, I really messed up your neck. God, did I hurt you? I'm so sorry.”

Lance blinked at him once. Then twice.

“... Lance? Please say something.”

The Red Paladin brought his hands down from Keith's hair and instead placed them on both sides of his face, cupping the concerned expression held there. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned up to press a chaste kiss to Keith's nose, then locked their gazes together.

“Keith,” Lance said, quiet and calm, “that is literally the sweetest thing I've ever heard you say, and you are too precious for this universe.” He leaned in, voice still sweet and soft. “But I just spent the past two hours getting pinned under your thighs, twenty-two times, and now I'm finally getting somewhere, and by somewhere I mean the single hottest make out session of my entire life.” He stroked a thumb tenderly across Keith's cheek. “So if you don't continue right where you left off, I am going to go find everyone and expose you for having a biting kink, and then I am going to go die of disappointment. Okay?”

Pupils blown wide with desire, Keith nodded numbly. He did not need a second invitation.

 

**Author's Note:**

> hope yall enjoyed, hmu on tumblr at lavender-letterbox and feel free to send me prompts; i may or may not get to them considering how busy i am/how much i wanna write but it's worth a shot


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